Coupling Up: Should Writers Marry Other Writers?

Please welcome multi-published author David Bell to Writer Unboxed today! David’s latest thriller, Bring Her Home, released from Berkley just last month. A little more about him:

David is the author of seven novels from Berkley/Penguin, including the just-released BRING HER HOME, SINCE SHE WENT AWAY, SOMEBODY I USED TO KNOW, THE FORGOTTEN GIRL, NEVER COME BACK, THE HIDING PLACE, and CEMETERY GIRL. His work has been translated into numerous foreign languages, and in 2013, he won the prestigious Prix Polar International de Cognac for best crime novel by an international author. He is an associate professor of English at Western Kentucky University where he directs the MFA program in creative writing. A native of Cincinnati, Ohio, he currently lives inBowling Green, Kentucky, with his wife, writer Molly McCaffrey.

I teach creative writing to both undergraduates and graduate students at Western Kentucky University, and inevitably I end up talking with them about the kinds of lives they can have as writers. It’s a big, looming question for anyone who wants to pursue a career in the arts: How can I support myself until I start making money from my writing? And what if I never make enough money to support myself?

Sometimes I respond to their queries with a joke.

“Don’t marry another writer,” I say. “Go down to the business school or the engineering school. Find a spouse there.” I tell them they should marry someone rich, someone who will support them while they pursue their artistic dreams.

They laugh, but my advice has been offered before. The late, great John Gardner in his classic book, On Becoming A Novelist, recommended that young writers marry for money. Who am I to argue with the ghost of John Gardner? (Although he married and divorced twice. I’m not sure if either of his wives were wealthy.)

But here’s the real problem with my argument: I didn’t follow my own advice. I’ve been married to another writer for nineteen years.

What does it mean to be married to a writer? Lots and lots of uncertainty. Unless a writer has reached the lofty heights of consistent bestsellerdom, they never know what the future looks like. There may be a book contract, there may not. There may be sales, there may not.

My wife and I meet regularly with a financial planner, and she tries to make projections about our future based on the income I’m earning now. I always have to caution her: Past performance is not indicative of future results. Every writer should have that taped above their computer. And they should also tell their future spouses that on the first date.

Despite the uncertainty, I receive huge benefits from being married to another writer. If one of us wants to vent about the vagaries of the business, the other understands. If one of us is trying to work through a complicated plot problem or brainstorm an idea for a new story, the other has a built-in sounding board. We also have flexible schedules and laugh together over jokes about grammar.

But what if you’re a non-writer in a relationship with a writer? How do you make sense of all of the mysterious trials and tribulations your partner is experiencing?

“In David Bell’s riveting Bring Her Home, the unthinkable is only the beginning. From there, the story races through stunning twists all the way to its revelation, without letting its heart fall away in the action. Intense, emotional, and deeply satisfying. This one will keep you up late into the night. Don’t miss it!”—Jamie Mason, author of Three Graves Full and Monday’s Lie

First, don’t make assumptions. The publishing industry is unique, and it doesn’t always operate the way other businesses operate. Don’t assume practices that work effectively in one business would be effective in publishing. Follow your partner’s lead about these things.

Second, expect a rollercoaster. No writing career follows a neat trajectory. I know so many writers—even very successful ones—who have been cut loose by agents, editors, and publishers, who have had to start their careers over from scratch and build themselves back up again. It happens. Raise your arms high and try to enjoy the ride.

Finally, recognize how fortunate you are. You are living with a creative person, a natural storyteller who is creating magic in the spare room of your house every day. When your partner experiences any measure of success—a poem published, a novel sold—you can celebrate too. You helped support and encourage the creation of that work—financially, emotionally, spiritually—and you deserve some credit too. Maybe a book will be dedicated to you. Maybe you’ll get listed on the acknowledgements page. Maybe all of your friends will secretly wonder if you were the inspiration for the deranged spouse your partner wrote about. (They won’t wonder. They’ll know it’s you!)

And if all else fails, chances are your partner, the writer, will enjoy a good drink from time to time. So there’s always that.

Admit it, this sounds way more fun than being married to an engineer, doesn’t it?

What do you think, writers? Would you want to partner with another writer? Why or why not? Share your stories in comments.

Comments

The only good that would come if my wife were a writer is the bestselling book about our gruesome murder-suicide that some OTHER writer would get to publish.

I married the right kind of crazy woman—the kind who insists I keep writing full time while she makes good money as a business owner. And stripper. That said, if my novels don’t start selling better, she may have to get a third job.

Thanks for the enjoyable Sunday read, David. May you and your wife continue your blissful and creative coexistence, free of murder and suicide.

I was married to another writer, but we wrote in entirely different genres. I wrote paranormal fiction while he wrote scholarly texts. But because we both wrote, we understood the need for alone time. We had separate office spaces and we both worked outside jobs, as well. But, we understood each other in ways that a non-writer probably couldn’t.

I would partner with another writer, depending on all sorts of other things, of course. Having been married to someone from the engineering school, well… I didn’t marry him for money, but he didn’t understand, and that’s more important to me than money. Why I thought he did at first is beyond my comprehension. Too bad you didn’t write this article back then :)

Fun post, David. I’m married to an engineer (23 yrs and counting) and it’s a glorious ride. I was a scientist at the time and once the kids arrived, stayed home and voila, became a writer during naptime.

I wouldn’t want to *use* anybody to enhance my career. Marriage is about making that commitment for life, for willing the good of that person you love always.

I’m married to the next best thing to a writer–a reader. He is the best sounding board, editor, and plot twist generator known to writerdom. Of course, I waited until I retired to launch into writing full time. That takes the monetary pressure off the endeavor.

My husband and I are both indie writers. Up until I retired four years ago we both worked full time at “regular” jobs. Being the older spouse I got to retire first. We both write what might be called romantic suspense thrillers, usually with some social relevance. We started working on a joint project and it is proving to be quite a challenge. In addition, we both write short stories; mine lean toward horror and his vary from science fiction to contemporary fiction. We’ve been dubbed The Crazy Writer Couple because I am viewed as nutty and he as the stable and dominated spouse. LOL We even set up a website under that title and put together a free collection of our short stories for download. Is it easy? Not always. We try to assist one another with reading for editing but it’s difficult when we have limited time. It does help when we want to bounce ideas off one another. It’s also a benefit when we need to vent about bad reviews, the difficulty of indie book promotion, or the dreaded writer’s block.

I married a Vulcan. For all you non-Star Trek people, that’s the antithesis of anything created from an emotional experience or endeavor. True we may have steady paychecks coming in, but being that I work 3/4 time at my paid vocation, when I’m at home “taking a day off” to write, my husband seems to think that means vacation. I get taps on the shoulder (he works from home) with questions that vary from a sprinkler not working to what I want from Costco. I point to the screen, I point to the chair, but for whatever reason he just doesn’t get that when I’m in the creative zone – it’s akin to ripping my arm off. One night I took him to the Hollywood Bowl to watch the piano soloist who sweats and gyrates, making deeply amusing faces as he pounds down on the keys … I told my husband that is what it feels like when I’m in the zone … that’s what you’re pulling me out of. He just looked at me with a blank expression on his face. I shrugged and hugged him. Suffice it to say we take the good and the bad of everything. In the past I have daydreamed about marrying a writer: the respect, the understanding. I think about what it would be like to marry someone like myself … and then I rip myself out of the dream because god knows, I couldn’t stand another guy like me.

I started dating my husband when I was 15 and was married to him at 20. We became writers later, together. It’s been one of the best things about our relationship. We both hold other full time jobs to pay the bills, of course, and those aren’t lucrative (he’s a pastor of a smallish church, I’m a copywriter for an independent publisher). I doubt we’ll ever be rich from any of it, but we are fulfilled and supportive of one another. I wouldn’t trade him for an engineer. :)

My partner is an engineer, but he is also a reader, actually my first reader. I definitely need someone who likes what I do, but sees things from a different point of view, for keeping me in touch with reality. :)